


Insanity, thy name is South Park

by Komodo_Butterfly



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, Insanity, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgy, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komodo_Butterfly/pseuds/Komodo_Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always the quiet ones. A look into the insanity that is South Park, through the eyes of a young Brit destined to be an outcast. Pip Centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on FF.Net back in 2009 and even now it's still my favourite. Hope you all enjoy.

Only in South Park could a psychopathic, sadistic tub of lard, an immortal dirt poor pervert, a harassed Jew with an overbearing mother and a football playing, often turned goth all American teen be best friends.

Well Cartman's case was certainly debatable by any means. Most speculated that his constant insults of Kyle were somewhat similar to foreplay, and that he'd wanted to get into the Jew's pants for years. This rumour was yet to be confirmed. If I remember correctly the last guy we sent to find out any truth to this rumour ended up being pushed under a train. Oh well. Kenny will surely be back within an hour or so. Now if only Butters would kindly stop sobbing into my shirt and let me finish my book in peace. As I'm sure you're aware, South Park is a haven for social outcasts from all around the globe. We have the son of Satan himself, Damien aka the Antichrist, The French mercenary with a fetish for digging, Christophe, two English boys, myself and Gregory, Tweek, the coffee addict and his boyfriend Craig who lives to flip people off. Hmm, then there's the token black guy, Token, the biggest slut in the world aka Bebe, the bane of Cartman's existence, (besides Kyle and the Canadians) Wendy and several other nutcases stashed in our small redneck community.

Any outsiders who tried to upset the craziness of our little town rarely lived to tell the tale; those who did manage to survive were usually locked up in the loony bin anyway. But I digress.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Philip Pirrup, an odd combination of names but you can call me Pip. Everyone calls me Pip, because they hate me.

Apparently it's because I'm British but so is Gregory and they don't all hate him. Only the boys hate Gregory but that's only because he has the complete attention of their girlfriends whenever he walks by. I'm not sure what other reason they all have to hate me but I've learned to live with it. As long as I can breathe comfortably by the end of the day and no one is following me home then I'm happy.

Welcome to South Park, where the sane do not survive. We hope you enjoy your visit and please avoid Eric Cartman and Damien at whatever cost. Alone they're the next Hitler and the antichrist respectively. Together…well. Let's just say we have no confirmation on what truly happens when those to plot together. Anyone who tries to find out…well we have never been able to find them.

Alive or dead…but generally we think it’s dead.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

Living in South Park is a trial no one should have to face. Disaster and scandal are as frequent Eric's attempts at exterminating the Jews. And the Canadians. And Kenny. And basically half the town who still call him fatass. The other half hasn't actually said it to his face, but you just know they're thinking it.

Those who've moved to South Park are often prejudged by this small redneck community. Are you just like them? If so then you'll soon be accepted. Did you move to America from Europe? If the answer's yes then you'll be forced to endure a series of humiliating and potentially fatal trials just to have a chance at being accepted. Well unless you're Gregory. He's smart, according to the girls totally hot and great at sports. This is somewhat surprising.  
   
Hmm, now that I think about it Christophe didn't have to go through these trials either. Well unless you count the whole Canadian war thing where he died. But Damien brought him back on his last trip to South Park from Hell so everything worked out. Christophe, or Mole as he prefers to be known as, is somewhat ruggedly handsome, constantly swears at everyone and is surely on a way to an early but admittedly very pleasurable grave with all of the smoking, drinking, partying and guys he's done. So I suppose that's the reason he didn't have to go through those trials either. Although he's hardly a great student, he's even worse than Eric. Something very few of us thought possible. Ever.  
  
Damien is a little different. Well for one he's the son of Satan himself; and please don't let him know I told you but he's somewhat…emotionally retarded. He's the kind of chap who'll insult you to your face about your looks, your sexual appetite, the last person you slept with and your family or living situation and then ask you why you're so upset. What's worrying is he honestly doesn't realise he's insulting you. According to him you should always be honest. But when dear Kenneth tried insulting Damien about his father's sexual endeavours and claiming he was being honest, it didn't work out so well.  
  
Damien did say Kenneth's genitals would eventually be reattached but the trauma of having his brain separated from him for three whole hours proved too much for Kenneth. So he threw himself under the next moving vehicle. This was, strangely enough, being driven by Stan who'd just passed his driving licence. I'm not sure Stanley has driven since. Hmm, maybe Kenneth will tell me if I ask him.   
  
Anyway, given that Damien's the son of Lucifer himself he's pretty much top dog at school…that is the expression you yanks use, right? Devastatingly handsome, just please don't tell him I said that, top of the class, which infuriates Kyle to no end, a supposed sexual master according to practically every girl at school and at least half of the guys and with satanic powers to boot have easily made him popular.

As for me? If I can avoid being publically humiliated, emotionally scarred, beaten to a bloody pulp or made the butt of an ugly rumour; then I just know they're plotting something particularly evil that day. And I can be sure it'll leave scars. Emotional or physical? Well that all depends on their moods.

I suppose you think it's Eric Cartman and Damien who see fit to torture me so often? Well I'm terribly sorry but you're incorrect. They simply molest me at every chance they can…with the occasional public embarrassment. The ones who prefer to see me covered with my own blood are the North Park lot.

You see there's only one public high school in Park County. This means everyone in Park County who can't afford private school is stuck going to Park County High School. And unfortunately North Parkians see themselves as superior to South Parkians and given my small stature, girly looks, frail health and general nancy-boy aura I'm often victim to their efforts over proving how superior they truly are. And whenever someone asks me what they've done to me I just can't seem to tell them. I suppose after hearing the words "Shut up Pip!" over and over growing up has affected me more than I first thought.

What's often confused me though is how instead of joining them like they would have in the past, those from South Park actually seem worried about me. It's so bloody confusing. You'd think they'd have no problem joining in with trying to kill me at every opportunity but instead they stand up for me. Dare I say they seem to be protecting me? Though I truly have no idea why. When I tried to ask Kenneth he just laughed at me and said something about not losing the best dodgeball player they had. I'm not entirely sure he said it in jest though. And no one else would explain it to me. Perhaps Damien would know. He does stare at me quite often and he is very popular so surely that means he knows. Well it does feel nice to be able to breathe without hurting, or having anymore scars and broken bones where they can be seen. I think the reason they protect me is simply because I'm from South Park. Had I not been then surely they wouldn't give me the time of day. At least not without getting a few good beatings in first.

And I do seem to have made a few friends. Butters and Kenneth are often willing to talk to me. As is Christophe…even if he is a bloody French frog and his boyfriend Gregory. Given that we both lived in England we do share a love of crumpets and tea so it's nice to have that to bond over. And the other South Parkians don't seem to tease and torment me nearly as much. Only to make lewd comments whenever they can get away with it. Funnily enough they don't seem to make those sorts of comments when Damien and Eric are around. It's quite confusing.

Those two still scare me I must confess. I always find them watching me with this look in their eyes. It's very unsettling. Yet no one else seems bothered by it. Not even Bebe will tell me what it means and she loves gossiping about "the two most hottest guys at this stupid school". Her words not mine.

In case you haven't already guessed, Eric has changed since elementary school. Physically that is. Mentally he's still a sadistic almost everything phobic bastard with a secret desire to get into Kyle's pants. Even I've noticed the way Eric looks at Kyle. Eric has actually lost a lot of weight. He's still large of course but it's all muscle. And making him captain of the football team has certainly made the rest of the school fearful. I suppose that's why he and Damien have so much power in the school. The antichrist and the future reason for the apocalypse, an odd combination don't you think. I do often wonder which one is the Queen and which one is the King. But I fear if I asked them then I'd only get hurt. Or worse, they'd grope me again. Our school's hierarchy is rather tiresome at times. Especially when you're me.

Oh darn it I'm late! Well as much as I'd like to tell you more about our lives I'm afraid I really must be going.


	3. Chapter 3

For those of you who're wondering; the devil, contrary to popular belief, is not Damien's father, Damien himself or even Eric Cartman. Rather the devil is one Kenny McCormick, one of, scratch that, the most lewd, perverted male who for the last two weeks straight has found it rather amusing to constantly bombard me with offensive, racist and certainly sexist remarks. In particular they seem to focus on how I'm not only a girl disguising myself as male but that I should be selling myself for a tidy sum of course to the hundreds of equally perverted males that reside in Park County High.

Pupils _and_ teachers.

Now if it weren't for the fact that I'm well aware of my lack of strength and complete insanity then I'd surely give him a right 'ole wallop. Though, I suppose Damien might be convinced to do so on my behalf. He usually jumps at the chance to torture us poor mortals.

But, alas, I still find myself clinging to the last ounce of sanity within me. Therefore the only response I can give is…well…nothing. After all, what was the one thing they'd tell me? Every single day of my life in South Park it was always the same. "Shut up Pip!" Always those words over and over again. It took me a while I'll admit, but it finally sunk in. They wanted me to shut up, so I shall. For good.

Two years now, two years of almost perfect silence on my end. Of course the occasional whisper will come from my lips, just to make sure I still have a voice of course. But to anyone who knows me; who recognises me… I've become a voluntary mute.

And wouldn't you know it. They love it. Because now they have a whole new game.

Who can make the British limey, South Park's biggest wuss and nancy boy; the sole outcast ever to grace Park County High; who can get him to make a sound?

Let the games begin.

Now this is where Damien and Eric come in. For some reason, of which I honestly haven't the foggiest, they seek to not only refuse to take part in the witch hunt of myself; but actively take part in retaliating against those who do seek to harm me. After all, the best way to break the silence is simply to make it reach breaking point. And unfortunately for me, these chaps seem to prefer me crying out in pain. Through whatever acts they may be.

But Damien and Eric, well, they almost seem to take as a personal attack towards them. Whenever North Park or even or some occasions Middle Park seek to make me suffer; somehow those find out. And that's when things start getting painful; for everyone else of course.

But what really puzzles me is why. Why after all these years of torture, abuse, making me into a human firework, attempting to make me walk using my own veins as puppet strings as a result of an all-night horror movie-fest; why did they choose now of all times to put a stop to it? You thought being a teenager was already hard enough? Try living in South Park!

Of course my life would be infinitely better if those two hellions simply assisted me when I'm bleeding various fluids. But alas this is South Park; and as is the custom of these rednecks any kindness given to me is to be immediately followed with either more pain and anguish then was previously doled out…or they'll just molest and use my body to sate their everlasting lust. Something that Damien in particular is very fond of doing to me. And it's just my luck he's taken to doing these things to me in the middle of the night when most teens are usually asleep; their partners taking photos of them nude to sell to various magazines and posted on those social networking sites as if to brag about their latest conquest.

Or as they put it in layman's terms; their latest fuck or shag.

Except while these teens may have to worry about not getting robbed while they sleep or being photographed for further perversions and waking to find themselves the latest victim of the rumour mill; at least they have the pleasure of not waking in the middle of the night to the ministrations of the devil's son doing things that would make Kenny McCormick blush for crying out loud. Is it really too much to ask after all of the abuse, both verbal and physical that I've been forced though every day since I was six years old; to have just one decent night's sleep?

No interruptions.

No pain.

No practically naked demons holding me down while a completely naked Damien does sinfully wicked things with that forked tongue of his. Is it so much to ask to have one night's sleep?

_"It is"._

Oh Buggeration! The smarmy git can read my bloody mind now! And don't even get me started on Eric. Why he insists on harassing me when he clearly wants to shag Kyle is beyond me.

_"WHAT!"_

Why have I got the feeling I'm being speaking aloud for the past twenty minutes? Is it the fact that Damien and Eric are staring at me? Or that Kenneth has actually managed to die from laughing so hard. Asphyxiation I believe the medical term is.

Sometimes being British in an American redneck town really is a pain in the arse. Of course it's hardly that way for Gregory. He gets a free pass because he's so frigging gorgeous and because he's shagging a once dead French mercenary. But I get no such pass. Because I'm Philip 'Pip' Pirrup and everyone hates me. Well…there's also the fact everyone is so set on the belief that I'm French. Which I loathe with a passion for two reasons.

Reason number one; I'm British and therefore it's in my blood to hate those crepe sucking croissant scoffing frogs. And two, why is it that Christophe, who actually is French, still has it so much better than myself?

_I'm not even bloody French!_

Sorry.

I seem to be rambling don't I? I suppose you'd much rather hear about the hierarchy of Park County High rather than the ramblings of a poor British orphan.

Well much like your stereotypical high school we have various cliques that control our school. Clearly at the top of the school hierarchy ladder; the Jocks, Cheerleaders and Student Council rule our school in their own way. The cheerleaders have the gossip mill covered; they control every piece of gossip that passes through this school. With just a handful of words they could make everything you've worked for; popularity, grades, friends and even respect disappear in an instant. Cross the cheerleaders and risk becoming a social outcast, a reject much like myself. Except worse.

Much worse.

And believe me; you wouldn't think you can get any worse than me.

Of course stay on their good side and you'll achieve the teenage dream. Great grades, a hot girl/boyfriend, smashing friends, a permanent lunch seat/parking space and all the popularity you can handle. And of course you'll be subjected to a makeover, whether it be physical or mental this clique will make you into a better person. More than you ever dreamed you could be.

Head cheerleader is, of course, Bebe Stevens. Followed by her gang of preppy hyperactive giggling girls and a select few boys. Some of which are even said to be straight. Although how they manage to stay straight when it's practically a rule for all cheerleaders to participate in sexual acts with at least two or more jocks at any one time is beyond me.

That's male jocks mind you.

They never did get round to updating the old school charter.

Now for the Jocks.

Pretty obvious to me and I wasn't even born in this country. The Jocks control the halls. They have the power to do whatever they like, sleep with whomever they want and destroy anything in their path. They're the brute force of the school, but contrary to popular belief they're not all brainless lumps of muscle and anger. With Eric Cartman as their leader you can hardly expect him to settle for having anything less than the best of the best for his teams. One of which I happen to be on. And before you start it isn't dodgeball. The dodgeball team disbanded after that fateful tournament in China. Of course we still play it in gym. Probably the only other time anyone will acknowledge my existence.

Back to the point; I'm actually a member of the track team. When my health can permit me to run that is. Having spent so many years running away from the various explosions and disasters that constantly plague South Park, and on top of that all those years of being chased by bullies; I've developed quite a speed. Enough so that Eric himself cornered me once after class threatening to beat me once again to a bloody pulp if I didn't join his team. Of course when faced with this rather convincing argument I had to agree.

Maybe now my internal bleeding will ease up a bit. It has become rather bothersome lately. Of course please don't fret on my behalf. Eric has been uncharacteristically kind to me. Rather than encouraging my daily beatings he's gone out of his way to return them tenfold to the one who sought to deliver it to me in the first place.

You might say he's taken me under wing, that he protects me. Unfortunately this gives him free reign to molest me at every possible chance. Probably due to a lack of getting any action from his Jewish redhead. Not that Kyle actually belongs to him...yet. Give it another week or so. No doubt Bebe would have a field day.

And finally we arrive at the Student Council. The controllers of all social events, student budget cuts and the distributors or power amongst the clubs and cliques that make up this school's hierarchy. Of course anyone with even an eighth of a brain can work out who the president is. And unlike that time in fourth grade when Bebe hit puberty early; Wendy hasn't been voted out for a more attractive bimbo. Why would she be? After all puberty had been more than generous for her. Something the entire school population can vouch for, regardless of their age, gender or sexual preference. Of course Student council vice-president is slightly more of a surprise, depending on your point of view.

Personally I think that given his father is the current ruler of Hell, that he'll undoubtedly be following in the family trade as it were and that he just loves to torture people for fun; it's hardly a surprise that the co-controller of the entire student body is that of Damien Thorne. The very same Damien who set me alight at Eric's birthday party all those years ago and who has now seen fit to molest and borderline rape me at every possible opportunity regardless of who watches. I mean there are those...namely the rest of the school who hasn't come into contact with Damien beforehand who think that someone as gothic looking, dark and mysterious as Damien couldn't possibly be interested in politics. Unless they were of the sexual kind of course. And while he's generally a slacker who still manages to pass all his classes with flying colours, which by the way annoys the hell out of the rest of us...no pun intended; he is surprisingly capable of controlling the teenage masses. Not to mention there isn't anyone stupid enough to stand against him. Even Wendy lets him be without so much as a glare. Well except that time he asked her to flash him in front of her first assembly as Student Council President. The look on her face was rather amusing.

Just think about it. Damien plus total power over hormonal driven teenagers is practically a recipe for disaster. But somehow he makes it all work out.

Of course we do have several other cliques in our school. The Drama students, Dancers, Preps, Geeks, Freaks, Goths, Losers, Posers, Nerds, Dorks and Foreigners are just to name a few. Mind you that is the order of our hierarchy. Typically I fall into the bottom category. Although I can redeem myself ever so slightly when I'm fit enough to run track. Otherwise I'm the bottom of the social food chain. Makes it so much easier to observe the others in their natural surroundings don't you agree?

Now I'm afraid I really must dash. Damien has that look in his eye again...I'm really starting to hate that look. It's getting harder and harder to sit down comfortably don't you know. And the others don't seem to be too happy with me either.

Well cheerio for now! If I survive this then I hope to speak with you lovely chaps again.

_Ouch!_

_Damien!_

_Stop this right now!_

_Damien!_


	4. Chapter 4

It's mating season here at Park County High where every corner you turn will grant you access to the most lewd and perverted antics of the hormone driven students and even some of the teachers. Every corner offers a different show; you just need to know who's screwing where.

What's particularly interesting is this is the best time for the young and beautiful to boost their popularity and grades by competing to see how much of the school population they can shag. The girls in particular use this time to sleep with as many members of faculty as they can in order to assert their dominance over each other. And to inflate their grades to straight A's obviously.

Say for instance you wished to see sweet little Butters and the previously mentioned demon-child that is Kenneth (or Kenny as the locals call him) going at it like dogs in heat. Just follow them into the second floor men's bathroom into the third from the left stall. You'll be treated to a delightful show of masturbation, using both hand and mouth, rimming, courtesy of the always perverted Kenny and depending on how long they have before 6th period, some light fingering followed by brutal ramming of Butter's arse. At least that's what I've heard on the streets. Well…corridors.

Damien in particular seems to adore watching the two blonds going at it during class time. He does seem to have a fetish for cute, innocent blonds.

And Kenny. And on that one occasion Bebe.

Perhaps I should heed people's advice concerning the antichrist. Although I'm no virgin…contrary to very popular belief; I'm not about to just fall head over heels for Damien so he can have his way with me.

Not again.

My first time with him was more than I bear to remember. No matter how jolly good it had been to begin with.

That's the trouble when you shag the son of Satan. He was born a monster, he'll remain a monster in Hell and he's incredibly selfish when it comes to getting off. Trust me. All he'd offer me was a lousy handjob afterwards. He's certainly not his father.

Now Gregory and Christophe are certainly quite the odd pair. Despite the unwritten rule that all French and Englishmen should never get along, those two have defied every last tradition passed through however many generations and have managed to find peace, lust and quite shockingly even love. Well their love is laden with curses, insults and the occasional violent outburst but still it is love.

Of course as with any couple those two certainly have their rough patches. I should say my absolute favourite was when Gregory caught Christophe in bed with dear Kenneth and quite bizarrely Damien. Although I suppose that all three of the have returned from Hell so it would make perfect sense that they should be getting hot and heavy under the sheets. Or in this case just hot and heavy on the bathroom tiles.

Needless to say Christophe was made to do an awful lot of apologizing to Gregory before he forgave him. And even more before he'd shag him again. Personally if I'd been in Gregory's shoes I couldn't possibly forgive the Frenchie bastard but alas I'm not Gregory. And as we all know, love and more importantly lust has been known to make even the smartest of men commit the stupidest of actions.

Of course if you did wish to see these chaps in the throes of passion…I'm starting to sound like one of those cheesy romance books Bebe never shuts up about…then you can see them in all their half-naked, and sometimes completely naked, glory during lunch when the rest of us are busy refuelling from such a long day of fucking and foreplay. Usually in that order might I add.

Well if you had the option of getting laid during school would you really want to waste time with useless foreplay before the main event when your partner was just as desperate at you? Of course we're prepared so we don't tear but other than that it's usually in and out within an orgasm or two. It does really depend on how long we can manage to stay out of class before someone would be sent out to look for us. Of course more often than not another needs to be sent out after them.

Threesomes are pretty much commonplace at school and when offered the chance for a quick fumble in an empty classroom with two hot guys or girls they usually take it. Of course this always runs the risk of a foursome and then a fivesome but on those rare occasions those who're fucking are actually a couple it can help them split up, particularly if their guest is especially well endowed at either end.

Insecurities really do get the better of South Park students. For instance Wendy and Stan. The perfect couple wouldn't you agree? Not quite. Particularly given how insecure Wendy can get over Stan's superior looks and personality and not to mention his rather large fan base within school. After all he is the American dream; well off, handsome bordering on drop dead gorgeous, great at soccer, basketball and football, smart, funny and a great listener. All of which seems to threaten Wendy as she has to fight tooth and nail to keep his unwavering attention solely on her.

Not to say that Wendy isn't attractive in her own way. She's rather pretty with a nice trim body and a decent fashion sense, but she can be rather overbearing at times. She's passionate but about things no one else really cares about, which makes her feel the need to ram her ideals and thoughts down her fellow classmates throats which needless to say can be a bit of a bother. Not to mention she seems to be at war with practically every other student from South, North and Middle Park over Stan's affections.

Except me.

And on most occasions Butters.

Which is good because she usually gets her hands on these amazing biscuits, cookies as the locals call them, giving me and Butters first dibs. Being neutral can be pretty rewarding.

Now Token Black and Clyde Donavon aren't together by any means but they do share the same stop, fuck and run method that's oh so popular during our mating season. Needless to say the use of condoms or any contraceptives is very rare indeed so unless the girls are already on the pill they've a high chance of getting knocked up. If I had to guess I'd say these two were the cause of around eighty percent of teen pregnancies in our little redneck community.

Which is pretty surprising when you take into account Clyde's only got one testicle.

Not to mention those two are probably the biggest carriers of all non-lethal STD's. How they can still get laid so many times when everyone knows how big of a slut they both are really does baffle me. I suppose being drop dead gorgeous and rich, or capable of getting discount shoes for the girls, means no one cares how diseased or whorish they are just so long as they get to brag about sleeping with them.

Those who are unfortunate, or in some bizarre cases fortunate, enough to get knocked up or given an STD by those two are automatically bribed off with expensive gifts so their reputations aren't tarnished. I vaguely remember this one girl getting a new car from Token after she got pregnant with twins by him. There's even rumours going around of girls deliberately getting pregnant by him and comparing the gifts they're given in exchange for their so called silence. Though how it can be classed as silence when it's posted all over the internet is quite beyond me.

If you do wish to see these two work their way through most of the school then you only really need to walk a few steps in any direction and there they'll be, some random female or on occasion male pressed against the wall and humped. And most likely a swarm of equally if not more attractive teens surrounding them waiting for their turn to get shagged and bribed.

Of course sexuality is something that's rarely dwelled upon when in the heat of the moment here. Why waste time fretting about how you were shoved into a closet and practically raped by a guy when you also happen to be a guy when you could be using said time to forget it and assert your authority over someone weaker than yourself?

But one of the sweetest if not slightly dysfunctional couples during mating season is that of Craig and Tweek. Though it is somewhat unfair to call these two a dysfunctional couple given that they both live in South Park where dysfunctional isn't even in the town's vocabulary.

Both myself and Butters actually checked this several weeks ago; Kenny was being made to grovel after the whole him, Christophe and Damien thing came to light, and we had an English report due about something or other. What's truly remarkable is the lack of security in that library. Especially given we accidently walked in on no less than six different pairings in just two minutes. Most of which involved teachers and their barely legal and in some cases illegal students.

Back to the point, if there was a point; Craig and Tweek are undoubtedly the least aggressive couple at Park County High, well…at least during mating season. Though the main reason for this is that they tend to disappear for periods at a time in order to escape from the potentially violent actions of the sex crazed teenage masses. Out of season Craig can be pretty violent to anyone who even looks at Tweek funny. Though his typical response would be the classic middle finger. Depends on the person and what they've done to piss him off, if you'd pardon the language. But when away from the crowds of giggling girls, hormonal boys and perverted teachers Craig is surprisingly caring and almost loving in the way he watches over Tweek. Then again I suppose you would need rather a lot of patience to handle the consistently paranoid caffeine addicted blond.

If for some reason you found the previous entertainment not to your liking then you might have a chance of catching these two behind the school dumpsters making out like a couple of love sick twelve year olds. Of course anything heavier than that and you'd need to look elsewhere, Tweek is far too paranoid about gnomes stealing his underpants to want to shag his boyfriend during school hours.

And last but certainly not least is the complete and utter wanker slash arse known to us mere mortals as Damien. Occasionally to be known as the son of the Devil, the Anti-Christ, the Prince of Darkness and several other titles that I really cannot bear to fathom at this very moment. Not to mention the bloody wanker didn't even have the common decency to create a last name for himself! He's just Damien.

One word.

Like Cher or Oprah.

And in case you can't tell, I'm rather peeved with said bastard at this precise moment in time, for reasons beyond the usual him flirting with anything in a skirt or tight trousers or indeed nothing at all covering the lower half of their body. Or indeed him shagging anything that moves provided they're good looking and still expecting me to swoon every sodding time I see him without so much as even looking at other people as I'm to be his property alone. I might as well just throw my free will and the rest of the bloody constitution out of the window. Perhaps they can join my happiness and every other positive emotion that's been beaten out of me since childhood at the bottom of the social ladder.

What has in fact pissed me off about the complete bastard that is Damien, is that on top of expecting me to be his little fuck toy whenever he gets a boner; which happens rather often given the way the pupils at this wretched school dress, he also has the nerve to pretty much rape me in the school's lower bathroom stall while everyone else in is gym class. And I don't bloody care what he tries so tell you, it bloody is rape when I don't want, don't need and certainly didn't ask for it. And bending down to pick up my bag certainly doesn't count as asking for it, at least not in my eyes.

Now apart from the fact that sounded rather like one of those insurance claims commercials they play on daytime television, what has gotten me most pissed about this situation is that for once we were actually prepared to play dodgeball. About the only sport I have any worth in what so ever, except of course track. But that's more to do with me not wanting to incur Eric's wrath. I mean honestly. It's the one time anyone else in this entire redneck town would be willing to show me any sort of interest that isn't illegal in at least 48 states. When I don't have to worry about being beaten or molested or humiliated, when I can feel like I have a chance of belonging by bashing some wanker's head in with a hard rubber ball. It's jolly good anger management I must say. Really helps take the stress off that comes with the task of being the pussy British kid that everyone loves to hate.

Why did God have to make me this way? The personal sex slave of his arch rival's son who clearly has abandonment issues if the way he refuses to let me go after he's finished shagging my brains out is anything to go by. Still it could be worse I suppose. Think about all of those starving children in Africa and unable to even read and write and…screw it. My life is certainly worse. At least they have families that love them, and even those without have reason to live. I've got no family, no life and a perverted arsehole currently trying to get into my trousers. Well South Park has never claimed to be the easiest place to live. Dear Kenneth is probably the poster child for that statement if the vast number of his graves in the graveyard is anything to go by.

Anyway I must be going now, if I'm lucky I can slip out before everyone comes back from gym. Getting caught in this position with an admittedly handsome but clearly warped Antichrist is not something I wish to repeat. You know what they say, fifth time is the charm.

Oh Bugger.

Make that the sixth time.


	5. Chapter 5

Sex is just another form of politics for the elite to master and hold over those they deem a part of the lower classes. Sex is a tool people use when they want something. Whether it be money, power, goods, or grades it can be traded for almost anything. It's the little things that make a relationship real. Those little touches, hugs so tight they crush you with love and the many different kisses for every little occasion. And you can't forget the looks sent between lovers, fuck buddies, husbands and wives; always full of secret meaning, a sly glance and the occasional vulgar gesture thrown in. These are the things that make a relationship what it is. Because without them it's just sex. Just the mechanical thrusting until an orgasm will wash over them; although in most cases only one is blessed with such pleasure leaving the other to fake it. No love, no affection, almost no trust between the two; just enough to trust each other that they won't kill them at their peak of pleasure.

In South Park sex is a means of getting further. Chef, Liane Cartman, Kenny and several others have followed this way of life for years. Whether it is to get information for the latest resistance movement in South Park, to get the government to change the law for abortions or to simply just to get food and money of their many clients in this small white trash redneck town. Grades at school are something to be bought or traded for with sexual favours rather than earned. Promiscuity is encouraged and expected in the first twenty years of their lives. Love at first sight is nothing but a myth; lust at first sight is far more believable. These are the rules that all teens in South Park are expected to abide by. So with that in mind surely you can see the need for the mating season.

Of course alongside these rules that encourage sexual activities and favours the rules of high school still apply. Promiscuity is encouraged but those in relationships are still expected to be loyal to their partners. At least in public. In private the phrase what they don't know can't hurt them has never been more appropriate. I can't recall how many couples have broken up here simply because their dirty little secrets have been brought to light by those jealous of what they appeared to have together. At least it keeps things interesting around here.

It does seem rather unfair that the pretty, hot, sexy and slutty people in South Park can get away with just about anything leaving the rest of us to work for our grades, money, power and popularity. Like we're being punished for having and using our brains and not being vacuous whorish individuals who're more concerned with getting laid then they are of working towards our futures. If I'm being honest to myself I do wish that I were blessed with those good looks that get you exempt from working for everything and getting little back and let's not forget the constant hazing I find myself a victim to when no one is around to save me.

Quite possibly one of the best examples of one of the blessed individuals in South Park is that of Kenny McCormick. With his shaggy blonde hair, gorgeous brown eyes and charming personality he easily wins over the majority of the town. Paired with an apparently amazing body, at least according to Bebe and Butters, he can often be found trading his body for favours, particularly when it comes to improving his grades and chances for leaving that dilapidated crap shack he calls a house, if you'll excuse my language. Really though, being poor in a place like South Park gives you very little options. Trust me, I know from first-hand experience. So either you give away your virginity before the age of twelve to guarantee to be well-fed and clothed for the rest of your high school career or you go through what I did struggling to get the most basic of necessities. Food, water, leak-free shelter that isn't just a pile of cardboard boxes at the bottom of an alleyway and let's not forget human contact that doesn't contain physical, mental or verbal abuse every six minutes that I'm in a room with them.

Although that last one may be because I'm British.

After all living in South Park when you were born outside the US pretty much guarantees you to be an outsider until you can prove yourself. Needless to say I never actually got around to proving myself to this rather backwater town.

But I digress, now dear Kenneth isn't the only example of how being a whore can get you everything you want or need; he just happens to be the best. After all he's only seventeen yet he's slept with just about every single person that matters in this town and quite a few that don't. Yet surprisingly he's still sleeping with Butters even though it has long passed his usual relationship period of three days. I suppose that makes Butters special; something that most of the female population of Park County High can't and won't believe. Honestly you wouldn't believe some of the shenanigans these young ladies go through in order to attempt to get into Kenny McCormick's trousers. At least they're entertaining.

That's the thing in South Park. Relationships come and go but no matter what happens within them the result will always be entertaining for the rest of us. Take for instance Stan and Wendy's latest break-up. Despite being the picture perfect couple, supposedly destined for each other, those two sure do spend a rather lot of time screaming at each other. And a very small part of that is with actual passion; the rest is usually rage, jealousy or a combination of both. Which isn't really that surprising considering he's one of the most popular boys in school and she's by far the smartest in our class so it's only natural that fangirls and boys of both of them resort to every measure in gaining their attention. And believe me when I say every measure. So if you really think about it, it's hardly surprising that the perfect high school couple are constantly at each other's throats.

I'm sad to say that the only other constant source of entertainment comes from Eric Cartman's claiming of his long term wet dream known to the rest of us as Kyle Broflovski. Of course you would first have to get past the initial stages or Eric's consistent childish taunting of Kyle's Jewish background and Kyle's insistence on retaliating with the traditional fatass remarks in order to view the entertainment that is their relationship.

Surprisingly Eric is rather considerate when it comes to Kyle; not something you'd ever associate the racist bigot with being. At the risk of him overhearing what I have to say about him I'd almost go as far as to say he is almost caring when it comes to his redhead; threatening anyone he hasn't known for more than eight years who tries to come into contact with his Jew. Teachers and students mind you. It was rather amusing to see our principal cowering at the sight of a rather irate Cartman during lunch period. A lack of food and lack of sex really does make him rather irritable; particularly when confronted with the sight of our male principal apparently groping his not yet boyfriend in front of the rest of the school. Of course there was a rational explanation for this, as there always seems to be when involving sexually frustrated teachers and desperately horny students, but that held no meaning to the former fatass and as they say the rest is history. Speaking of which I suppose I'd better get to class lest I have to face a highly irritated wanker known as our history teacher.

Kill me, someone please do me the dubious honour of murdering me in cold blood so I won't have to return to school tomorrow. Although I suppose with my luck even if I had died they'd still mark me as truant and I'd been in a shit load of trouble with the authorities. After all the South Park police department are hardly the brightest tools in the shed.

You may be wondering why now?

Why now of all times am I wishing for the sweet release that is death. Why not eight years ago when the abuse really took a turn for the worst, when I was tormented by demons, constantly beaten and picked on for my birthright and looks by little hellions with nothing better to do that call me fart boy. Of course let's not forget the time Damien set those demons on me, not quite as scarring but still they certainly won out over the special effects.

Back to the point; the reason I'm praying that I die, our school is destroyed or some other crazy phenomena that renders stepping into our classroom impossible is that if I don't die within the next nine hours before school starts then I'll surely die of embarrassment within that one second of stepping onto Park County High territory.

As you may recall Damien and I were caught in a rather explicit position by our gym class for the sixth bloody time. Of course by now people had been getting rather used to it, at least until Damien had the rather absurd idea that it would be far more fun to give them a show so to speak. I suppose the only positive thing about this particular show is that this time there were no fireworks or great big flipping demons trying to rip me into bite size chunks.

Believe me when I say that was the only positive thing about this experience.

Particularly when said wanker offered my fellow classmates the chance to grope, molest and abuse my body in whatever way they desired provided it held some sexual undertones. Needless to say I was left humiliated, bruised, pissed off beyond belief and to my shame utterly flushed and aroused.

This became especially worse when my fellow classmates decided to actually take him up on his offer. These being the same people who'd constantly make my life a living hell creating a rather traumatic childhood for me and I'm supposed to simply accept that they've all been harbouring a secret desire to shag me senseless? I think not...although this is South Park; it might not be the most ridiculous theory to ever be created. At least not compared to half of the utter rubbish that once spewed from Eric Cartman's mouth.

But I have to admit I found it rather perplexing that so many of my school chums, and I use the term extremely loosely, not only took Damien up on his offer to use me how they see fit but that they focused largely on using my body sexually when in the past they have certainly favoured far more physically abusive ways of torturing me. I have to admit that this is so bloody confusing I just don't know what to think.

Scratch that there is one thing I know; there is no way in the name of all that is holy am I going to be attending classes tomorrow. Heck, there's no chance I'll even be within fifty feet of the school gates lest I run into anyone who even heard about what happened thanks to that damned rumour-mill that keeps our school so pumped full of gossip.

It is times like these I really do regret moving to this backwater little mountain town. Even if half of the teenage population really is so good looking they'd easily charm and sleep their way into everyone's hearts. And I especially regret ever meting the devil himself, Kenny McCormick as the local idiots call him; the Anti-Christ, Damien and who could forget the utter wanker known as Eric Cartman. Although I do suppose I should refrain from constantly calling him a wanker as he was one of, scratch that, the only person in the entire bloody gym class to not throw his sweaty, hot and flushed body onto mine thereby completing the class orgy that I'm sure by now has made it onto the web. And if that is the case then so help me lord I'm killing myself right now and saving the universe of the trouble by letting me die from sheer humiliation. Beg your pardon; I seem to be rambling again don't I? Well surely given the predicament I've found myself in, you can surely understand.

But if I'm to be brutally honest to myself I highly doubt that I will be given the blessing of staying home from school eight hours and thirty two minutes from now. The truant officer would no doubt be banging on my door; certainly wouldn't be the first time he's done it. And I wasn't even skipping the last eight times he's called round. Twice I was recovering from my injuries and the other six times I left my place at thirty six minutes past seven rather than half past due to my wretched alarm clock breaking down. I swear that man is stalking me. But if I did end up going to court about it no doubt I'd be the one who'd be in the wrong. Simply because I'm Philip 'Pip' Pirrup, a British foreigner living in the discrimination capital of the world. Oh, and let's not forget how everybody hates me. I do so love hearing that little chestnut over and over...and over again.

-

As I thought I couldn't just stay home and wallow in my humiliation all day. That cock of a truant officer certainly made sure of that. The nerve of him! He practically dragged me from my home while I was still in my pyjamas no less and I'm not entirely sure he didn't cop a feel; he certainly copped plenty of leers I'll tell you that. And I could have sworn I felt him lick me; I'm praying I was wrong but I have the sneaking suspicion he did.

And I have to say today didn't go nearly as bad as I feared. I'd expected comments, jeers, abuse of both the physical and mental variety not forgetting of course that everyone who'd used me would simply treat me like some cheap floozy. I certainly didn't expect smiling faces, although I'm still not convinced they were simply making fun of me behind my back. Certainly wouldn't be the first time. Now while I can tolerate and even feel relief at the smiling faces I certainly can't ignore how everyone seems fixated on me today and it's really creeping the heck out of me I must say. What's even more worrying is that I've seen neither hide nor hair of Damien, Kenny and Eric.

Now if one of them was missing I could believe things were normal; especially when you consider the bizarre adventures Eric and Kenny are dragged into almost daily. And to a lesser extent if two people were missing, provided Kenny was one of the two. God knows that boy loves his mid-afternoon sleeping in and skiving off under pretence of illness. And let me just say right now that not getting laid in over four hours is certainly not any excuse to skip school.

Although I certainly don't regret throwing dear Butters his way when he was stalking the halls looking for an empty hole to fill. I like to think that Butters was rather chuffed as well; although he did seem to be rather sore the next day. I suppose Kenny can be rather rough at times; as I, I mean we, know all too well.

But I must admit I was almost frantic with worry about what today would bring. Alas, with today already underway and the worst thing to happen so far is a rather rough hand slapping my arse as I walked to homeroom, I find myself rather optimistic about classes. Surely if they were to humiliate me they would have done so immediately. These people are not known for being patient when it comes to finding ways to make my life an utter misery I'll have you know. They have a combination of ADD, sugar, caffeine and hormones to thank for that.

Well I need only to step through this door and school will officially begin. Although I do find it rather strange that the halls are so empty all of a sudden. Well surely this cannot be a sign for some bizarre attack on my person. With the punching and kicking. The biting and the scratching. The licking...the frantic hands groping places that I'm not used to being groped. And the many mouths whispering filthy words into my ear. Terribly sorry I don't know what came over me. Does it feel rather warm in here? No? Well then I suppose I'll see you after classes.

-

I'd like to close with the following complaint. I swear in the name of all that is holy that I am going to castrate that ass-fucking, cock-sucking, son of the bloody devil Damien with my own two hands! I do not care that he is the Anti-Christ. Neither do I care that he is extremely powerful and more than capable of sending those wretched demons to rape and use my body for whatever purpose they wish. I swear that the second I can get my hands on something even remotely heavy and/or dangerous I'm chucking it so far into his skull he's only going to have one brain left to think with. Although I must admit he currently does only think with his dick so there won't be very much difference there I believe. Well I'll bloody think of something else. Thanks to that complete dipshit of a bastard I won't be able to sit down for a bloody month. Arsehole. And don't think the rest of those bastards won't get their comeuppance either. This school is surely run by the hormones of the students who fuck, snog and do everything but study here.

Why God didn't kill me when he had the chance I'll never know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. This has always been my favourite fic of mine and I am really tempted to start it up again. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Living in South Park is something of a trial. If you’re not being arrested, blown up, crushed by debris, chopped up into chilli or tortured by demons, then there’s a damn good chance you’re about to be subjected to absolute chaos. The good news is that unless you’re Kenny McCormick, then there’s usually a good chance you’ll live. At least you will if you’re one of South Park’s children. That’s native children mind, not one of us foreigners. They’re oddly particular about that.

Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what I’ve been up to in my absence. Terribly sorry I took so long but I’m afraid I was laid up in hospital for a bit. As it turns out Damien is particularly possessive of his toys, and well seeing as I was one of his first, he did so love turning me into a firework that time, he tends to treat me differently. Usually it’s not so bad. Usually he simply molests me when he is pleased with me, or if he isn’t he’ll spank me or pinch me until I behave. He’s much like a child in that regard, although I must admit he has gained a lot of control over his temper.

Sorry I seem to be rambling again don’t I?

Well anyway there was a little bit of an incident which made Damien flip his lid, so to speak. Now through no fault of my own, I simply must emphasise that fact, I found myself in bed with Kenny and Butters. Which was really quite odd because they never invite me into their bed, when they’re a couple that is.

I mean I’d be lying if I said I’ve never slept with Kenny. I honestly can’t think of anyone, who isn’t a child, who hasn’t slept with him.

In this school at least.

But Butters, now that was something I wasn’t expecting. Don’t get me wrong we get on rather well. Two weak-willed blonds like us are such easy targets for bullies and perverts. So a while back we decided to band together, with Tweek of course, in order to give each other support if we needed it.

Though I must say in my case, much of that support has consisted of patching me up after that bloody North Park lot get their filthy hands on me.

Not like sweet little Butters, and the always adorable if a little spastic Tweek. No all they have to fear is a sore arse and throat from screwing around all day.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not jealous. I’m not, _really_.

Right, focus. Terribly sorry I do seem to go off on a bit of a ramble.

So okay, yes we bumped the uglies, shagged like bunnies, however you yanks say it. We had sex and I must say I don’t regret it one bit. It had always been one of Kenny’s mottos that all you needed to be happy in life was a good hard orgasm. A motto I have to say I quite support after experiencing the care and affection the two bestowed on me. And yes I’m aware I must sound like some silly teenage twit gushing about her romantic fantasies and whatnot. But you have to understand that before them I’ve only ever really experienced pain, humiliation and on most days a terribly sore arse.

There’s a big difference between love and lust, something I assure you I know all too well. But when I was with those two I actually felt needed. I can’t say I felt loved, because I know they love me as nothing more than an acquaintance. Or perhaps as a friend in Butters’ case. But still I liked feeling that way.

In school I’m lucky if people acknowledge me in the hallway. Or actually I’m lucky if any of the South Park children acknowledge me. I’d certainly prefer it if the North Park lot never noticed my existence. Those chaps are frightfully aggressive when they want to be.

Anyway, somehow Damien found out about our little escapade. And I don’t know if you know this about Damien, but while he may be an all-powerful, fearsome son of the devil himself, he’s…well how should I put this? He’s a brat. I mean seriously he may have the body of an admittedly very attractive young man, but mentally at times it’s like he’s five years old. He’s like a child. He finds a toy, plays with it and eventually breaks it, then he just drops it for the next one.

Now to put it into perspective, I am that toy. It started back when he blew me up for that firework stunt, which I must admit I was all for. I just wanted to help him fit in you know? Well he sure took advantage of me back then, that’s for sure. Although, now that I think about it, he does seem to do that an awful lot.

Well bugger me.

That bloody prick has been taking advantage of me all this time and I’ve just be lying back and letting him do whatever he likes to me. Well no more! I mean it this time! I don’t care what he tries or what he does, I’m not having it anymore!

Now where we? Ah, yes. Reasons why Damien is sodding wanker. Okay, so basically Damien has a lot of issues. He can’t share, he doesn’t think about anyone but himself, not even the person he’s got his dick shoved in. So bloody selfish, you couldn’t even imagine. He won’t even think about whether you’re enjoying it. Now even a lousy handjob to make up for the fact you’re letting him bloody ream your ass. And I’m rambling yet again aren’t I? Terribly sorry, he just gets to me is all. But as I was saying, Damien is a spoilt brat used to getting what he wants. He’s never been told no. So you can imagine that when things don’t go his way, he gets frightfully angry.

Why I remember the last time Kenny angered him so. Before I slept with him and Butters that is. It was a terribly, bloody mess that was for sure. But at least Damien was happy with the results. An unhappy Damien is not something you want hanging around, believe me.

Now I’m not sure how he did, but Damien found out about us. And as you can imagine he didn’t react very well to the news. As I mentioned before he views me as his toy. Or as some might say, I am his property. So when he heard about his property being claimed by another, well he kind of blew up. Wait, why am I saying he kind of blew up? He did blow up, half the bloody town and the school gym. While gym class was in session mind you. So you had a hoard of scantily clad teenagers fleeing for their lives. Of course this is usually a pretty common sight for us from South Park, but for everyone else it was pure mayhem. I’m sure had Damien not been so angry at me and Kenny he would have appreciated the sight more.

But as it was, he was terribly angry indeed. Enough so that he killed Kenny in a most horrific manner. I’m sorry I daren’t even relive it, it was truly horrific.

Now as you can imagine Butters was positively distraught, as was I. But Butters was more important in that moment. I mean you certainly couldn’t blame him for any of this. He was only trying to help get me back to my usual level of angst. Not the deep, dark pit I’d dug myself into on that fateful day. And what did he get for his efforts? A homicidal demon boy on the warpath, the love of his high school life strewn about in a pile of limbs and organs, and not even a thank you for keeping me from doing something irreversibly stupid. I truly felt for him in that time.

But don’t go thinking I got away with it unscathed. Hence why I was in the hospital. Now the good news is there was no permanent damage. Bones mend, bruises heal and all that jazz. Having been sent to hell and back, literally, I’ve become rather good at healing quickly. I suppose you could say I’ve finally started being a member of South Park. You know what I mean? It doesn’t matter how injured they are; by next week they’re completely back to normal. So that’s something to be happy about I suppose. Well it’s not much but it’s a start.

Now I must say, once Damien calmed down and it did take a while I must admit, he did seem rather contrite about how he’d treated me. Or at the very least he was rather generous with the morphine drip they had me on. And when you’ve known Damien for as long as I have, well that’s pretty much the nicest he’ll get.

He never apologised of course. Why would he? I doubt he even knows what the bloody word means. But still with him, I’ll take whatever half-arsed gesture I can get. Seeing as how that’s the best I’ll ever get from him.

Now lately things have started to look up a bit. I mean sure I’ll need to go back to hospital to get the leg cast removed, but on the plus side I haven’t been picked on nearly as much. As you might well know, Damien can be rather terrifying when it suits him. And recently I’ve found it suits him whenever he catches sight of one of the North Park lot.

If I were a sap and a bloody idiot, then I might think Damien was beating and barbequing those boys in order to defend my honour. You know like the great knights did back in England. Of course the idea that Damien would ever do something out of the goodness of his heart is laughable. In fact I’m not sure he even has a heart. And I mean that literally. He is half demon after all; you’d be surprised at what their anatomy consists of. But that’s just foolish thinking. About Damien defending my honour I mean, not about whether he actually possess a heart.

To be perfectly honest, I’m quite sure Damien feels guilty for how things have ended up, with me at least. I mean he got too rough; his words not mine, and put me in the hospital. Which means I’m being forced to hobble around school; seeing as how I don’t have insurance, with a nice fat debt hanging over my head. Not only that but I can’t run away from predators, which this school seems to be full of. Plus I can’t run in track, something Eric went absolutely ballistic over, which was quite an amusing sight to see I must admit. I never knew he could turn that colour.

So to sum it all up, I’m in debt and most likely will never get to go to college. I mean with all the madness that happens around here, it’s not like I get much time to study. And it looks like my chances of a sports scholarship will be out the window. So I feel pretty confident in saying I’m pretty much screwed.

Thank you Damien, you absolute tosser.

Well at least I’m getting laid. Quite frankly I always feared I’d die a virgin. Fat chance of that happening here though. This is South Park after all. Home of the ignorant, homicidal and the horniest sons of bitches you’ll ever come across.

Well it’s a small consolation at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! It’s been years since I last wrote for this fic but’s it’s always been my favourite. So depending on how you all like it I might be continuing it again.
> 
> So please let me know what you think!
> 
> KB


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but I’ll admit I have been preoccupied with updating my other fics first.
> 
> Thanks again to those who reviewed the last chapter, I hope you enjoy this just as much! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It seems I may have been mistaken about Damien. There’s something I never thought I’d say. But it’s true, as hard as it may be to believe. Apparently there’s more to Damien then you’d think.

Now I’m obviously not talking about the whole, him being an insufferable prick, thing he has going on. Although I’d like to point out he bloody well is. Nor I am talking about him being the son of the devil, I mean come on that’s the first thing anyone knows about him. I am in fact referring to those times, extremely rare as they may be, where Damien almost acts human.

Okay fair enough he’s half human and all, but I still say the demon side of him is pretty much in complete control. I mean really it’s like you’ve got a demon wrapped up in a human casing. I must say though that would certainly explain some things. I must admit, there are certain areas of Damien’s body that seem strangely out of proportion. In a good way I mean. A very good way.

Ahem…forgive me; I seemed to get a little lost in thought there for a moment. Terribly sorry chaps, now where was I? Oh yes, Damien acting human.

Now considering his upbringing, it’s understandable why Damien is the way he is. I mean his love of blood, guts and torture far exceeds that of a normal teenager, except for perhaps Eric Cartman but I don’t even want to think about him right now. Trying to get me expelled the wanker. But anyway that’s another story. So yes, Damien. Now I’ll admit he’s a little rough around the edges, in a homicidal, insane sort of way, but to be perfectly honest in this town that’s kind of a given. I mean for heaven’s sakes look at Eric Cartman. He’s a sociopathic, quite possibly psychotic, homicidal lunatic with serious denial issues. I mean the way he chases after Kyle, teasing him and driving him bloody insane, he’s like an overgrown toddler. Who happens to know how to operate a machine gun. Isn’t that just a lovely thought?

Damien, right yes. Terribly sorry, I do seem to be getting awfully distracted lately. But honestly If I just had five minutes alone with that son of a bitch Cartman. Although I must admit I would fear for my life. Or at the very least my dignity. Hang on what am I thinking? I haven’t had dignity in years. It’s how I’ve ended up the town’s whipping boy. Pricks the lot of them. That’s what they are.

Now as I was saying, lately Damien has been acting rather strangely. Now whenever I’ve tried asking anyone about it; Kenny, Christophe you know the ones used to dealing with his shit, they’ll just ignore me. Okay when I say ignore me it’s not that they’ll ignore me, my arse can attest to that, but they’ll certainly ignore my questions. Which I must admit is so bloody infuriating. It’s not even that Damien’s behaviour is bad. I mean he’s being nice to me, which I must admit set alarms bells ringing throughout my mind the first time. But it’s just so strange to see him behaving in such a manner.

Don’t get me wrong it’s a nice change. A very nice change as a matter of fact. Before this I was little more than a convenient hole, for him to get in whenever he needed a spot of relief. Nowadays he treats me as if I were human. As someone with actual feelings and capable of being in pain. I must say it’s most refreshing. It’s just so weird though.

So yes anyway, I tried asking Kenny and Christophe to see if they knew what was going on. Now Christophe I’ll admit I’m not particularly fond of. I’m sure he’s a lovely chap and all, Gregory seems to like him at least, I just can’t get over the fact he’s bloody French. Too many traumatic childhood memories I suspect, I mean it’s only recently people stopped calling me French. Of course we were playing dodgeball at the time. And I did have Cartman and Damien on my team. You can only imagine the carnage that unfolded that day. Though I must admit they bloody well deserved it. The nerve of them calling me French.

Now I’m sure I can guess what you’re thinking. You’re probably wondering why, if I proclaimed to dislike Christophe so much, then why did I let him bugger me more than once? Now the first time was partly out of despairing loneliness, but mostly because he and Gregory were really hoping for a threesome. Though I have to wonder how many they asked before they got stuck with me? The times after that though, well in South Park and by extension Park County, sometimes there’s just that need to screw into the next pretty piece of ass that walks by. And while it truly hurts me to admit it, I’m man enough to admit that some people may consider me pretty. You know as opposed to being rugged or handsome. It seems I take after my mother a bit too much in that regard. Then of course there’s those times when everyone’s in a bit of a frenzy. Where no one can be sure of where they’re sticking it, as long as it’s tight and warm they rarely complain. So yes, that’s usually how I end up being shagged by the Frenchman.

Anyway, since no one would tell me what was going on, I must admit I was getting rather freaked out by Damien’s bizarre behaviour, I decided to go to someone I hoped would have the answer. Damien’s father, Lucifer himself. Now I know you must be thinking I’ve become quite daft, I mean the man (or is it goat?) is certainly a dangerous being to encounter. But I’ve known him for ever so long now, I’d say it’s about six years now. And he does put on the most delightful tea parties, with proper English tea I’ll have you know. Not to mention those fancy little cakes and sandwiches, a real proper gentleman (gentlegoat?) I must say. And he was ever so helpful in answering all the questions I had about Damien.

Apparently Damien is quite a coward. I know I know, it sounds preposterous. But according to his father; the way he stalked me, fucked me, beat me and then approached me while I was in hospital, was all part of this bizarre demon courting ritual. You know to ensure the mate they chose could handle all kinds of shit. Well apparently I passed. It seems living in South Park has its uses after all.

Of course rather than telling me why he kept manipulating and abusing me, Damien decided to make things as difficult as possible for the both of us. Which as you know, ended up with me in hospital for the umpteenth time, a nice fat bill over my head and my chances of a future permanently squashed. So you can imagine when I found out what all this was, I didn’t react too well at first. You know Satan said he’d never seen anyone turn quite as white as I did. And considering he’s the ruler of hell, bloodless corpses are pretty much all he sees. It’s always nice to learn something new.

Now as you can imagine, I kind of went off it a little. For those who don’t know what that means, well I may or may not have grabbed the nearest thing at hand, searched high and low for that bleeding wanker and proceeded to bash his head in. I must say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cartman look so proud before.

Now they say every action has consequences. Boy do I know that now. As you can imagine, Damien was mightily pissed that I’d managed to kill him. Or rather I killed his body; I mean it was human and all. But funnily enough he didn’t even try going after me. It seemed Satan failed to mention that by committing murder, even if it was someone who would never stay dead; it only proved my worth more in the demon’s eyes. If I’d known that I’d have done away with Cartman years ago. But I suppose there’s always next time.

So basically, to make a long story short, Damien decided that we should go out. As a couple. I’m still trying to get my head around it. I mean usually when you try to kill someone, they don’t react by asking you out on a date. Although I must admit, being the ruler of hell sure makes it easy to get reservations.

Don’t get me wrong, he still pisses me off almost as much as Cartman. But seeing as how he has been torturing that godforsaken North Park lot, wankers the bleedin’ lot of them, I put up with it. If for nothing else than the free food, hey an orphan’s got to eat. The sex is pretty good too I’ll admit. He’s even been trying out foreplay on me which is a nice change. You know from the usual, bend over and let me stick it in you. Hardly original.

Now I know I’ve been rambling on quite a bit, I’m sure you’re all tired of listening to me prattle on like this. But I have been badmouthing Cartman quite a lot without giving you nice folks an explanation. So I suppose I owe you one.

Remember when Damien put me in the hospital; after he found out I slept with Kenny and Butters? Well after I got back to school, obviously by this point I had crutches on; Eric Cartman came over to me. I was struggling to get things out of locker. You see at this point, poor sweet Butters was too afraid of Damien to approach me. So I was on my own, Damien had nicked off somewhere and obviously Kenny wasn’t about to risk talking to me so soon after what happened.

So Eric came over, cocky little smirk on his face as per usual. I should probably point out at this point everyone knew what had happened, to get me in such a state. So naturally Eric began with calling me a whore, in full view of everyone. Then he asked me to get down on my knees since it was all I was good for. Naturally at this point I was so blinded by rage I was pretty much catatonic. Since I wasn’t reacting the way he’d hoped, Eric then told me quite clearly I was off the track team. Apparently having a busted leg as well as a reputation in tatters, meant I was disposable.

Well I’d quite like the four trophies I won.

Now normally I have a high tolerance for bullshit. I have lived in South Park for an awfully long time you see. But it seems I have a limit. That limit is Eric. So while he was publicly degrading me and everything I’d worked for, well I had enough.

Did you know it doesn’t take much force to have a man positively squealing and rolling around on the floor? Well now I do. I didn’t even hit him all that hard. I just rammed one crutch into his ribs, another into his balls and pressed as hard as I could. I’m surprised he could even feel it, the lardass. Apparently there’d been a bunch of parties the last few weeks, all that alcohol and junk food really didn’t agree with him. He’s not as heavy as he was obviously, but he’s certainly packed on a few pounds.

So naturally being the crybaby that he is Eric wanted me expelled. In all honesty I was all for the idea. I already knew my life sucked, quite frankly I was amazed I’d lasted this long. But no. I wasn’t expelled, much to mine and I’m sure everyone else’s shock. Apparently our dear principal had wanted to kick Cartman’s ass for years. Of course that would be wrong, they’d get arrested. But a student doing it for them? Well that was perfectly fine, especially as it was obviously in self-defence. I mean I was in crutches after all.

So no expulsion for me. No punishment of any kind in fact. Although Cartman certainly got reamed for what he’d said about me.

Now Damien’s reaction when he heard the news, well I must say that was simply splendid. Never before have I admired someone so much for making someone else cry. I mean having being bullied mercilessly for years, I abhor bullies. Usually. But seeing Damien finally give Cartman his comeuppance? Well I just might have fallen in love with him.

Did I really just say that? Good lord I did. I think I’ve actually fallen in love with the son of Satan. Oh if only my sister could see me now. No doubt she’d call for an exorcism or something crazy like that. As much as I loved her, pretty sure she’s dead now, I sure don’t miss her screaming. Joe on the other hand, I liked Joe. He was nice.

So to sum everything up since you saw me last, I’m now dating the son of Satan (officially), I’m no longer on the track team (I’ve always been overly fond of staying alive) and thanks to my boyfriend (I will never get tired of saying that) I have a future to look forward to. And no before you ask it isn’t ruling hell alongside Damien. I don’t have the stomach for all that blood and gore I’m afraid. No instead, I will be doing something I’ve always wanted to do. Come next year I’ll be attending college. A proper college mind you, not that community college crap.

Apparently sleeping with the son of Satan has its perks. Aside from the usual protection from bullies and amazing sex, it seems Damien’s very generous with his cash. And while I certainly wouldn’t want to sound like a money grubbing whore, like many of the girls in our year, if he demands I let him pay for me to go through college then I certainly won’t refuse.

I may be many things; a limey, a twink, an orphan and a homosexual, but I’m not an idiot.

I’m also not French. Please remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I might be doing another chapter for this. I had considered making this the last chapter but I’ll see what kind of response I get. If people want me to continue this then I will.
> 
> As always please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> KB


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